One Last Adventure
by Sleepy Lotus
Summary: Newlyweds Elizabeth and James return to England for their honeymoon and to visit his family's estate. Somewhere along the way, Elizabeth comes to realize that Commodore Norrington just might possess the key to her heart after all… Norribeth.
1. Chapter 1

**One Last Adventure**

 **Summary** : Newlyweds Elizabeth and James return to England for their honeymoon and to visit his family's estate. Somewhere along the way, Elizabeth comes to realize that Commodore Norrington just might possess the key to her heart after all… Norribeth.

 **Rating** : M/Explicit

 **Words** : 7800

* * *

 _One last adventure._

That was the only request Elizabeth made of James, in regards to their nuptials. The Commodore bit down on the bitter hurt that she did not think their lives together would contain any excitement in of themselves, and set about making her wish so. When he proposed that they travel to England to see his family at their country estate, she did not seem overly excited, though neither was she opposed.

She had hoped for something a _bit_ more exotic, no doubt, but after their recent brush with pirates James could not bring himself to put his new bride in unnecessary danger, no matter how she inexplicably seemed to long for it. The crossing of the Atlantic could be treacherous enough as it was.

They were married with all the expected fanfare of the union of a Governor's daughter and a high ranking officer in the King's Navy. She bore the day cheerfully enough, though at times there was a distant look in her eye, and with a pang James couldn't help but wonder if she thought of Will Turner, and wished he, not James, was at her side. Yet then she would come out of it and smile up at him with what seemed to be genuine warmth, and his heart would swell nearly to bursting once more.

He loved Elizabeth, but he did not yet completely understand her.

In time, he hoped that would remedy.

At the end of the day, all the festivities put to rest, James brought his new bride home. He carried her up the stairs with a strength that seemed to surprise her, and for the first time allowed himself to kiss her with abandon outside her bedroom door. It left her flushed, bright eyed, and utterly waylaid by his unexpected passion.

" _Wait_ ," she'd begged, and because he loved her, he did.

James slept alone for the better duration of that night, though at some point in the early morning Elizabeth slipped beneath the sheets with him, curling into the shelter of his arms. When he woke he was surprised to find her there beside him, though certainly not displeased. When she looked up at him with those wide doe eyes full of question, he kissed her gently, putting her fears to rest.

"I will wait as long as you need," he assured her, and gratefully she kissed him again, the tip of her pink tongue grazing his.

Curious, was his Elizabeth, but also cautious.

Perhaps it was unfair to fling young women into the thick of matrimony all at once, James mused. To be taken from everything she once knew in girlhood, and to suddenly expect her to become a woman, seemed cruel. Most men would laugh at his indulgence of her, he knew, and yet her happiness meant so much more to him than custom or the slaking of his own lust.

In time, he reasoned, she would come to him, and their marriage would be all the stronger for it. That did not stop him from wanting, though, and sometimes he wondered if his imp of a wife had some idea of the way she sweetly tortured him.

The smallest things had the power to call his desire of her. The tilt of her fine head, or the curl of her full lips. A simple thing like tying off the laces of her dress on mornings shared in their small cabin, because she had left her lady's maid behind in Port Royal for their long voyage to England. One morning, he even woke to her exploring hand inquiring about his most sensitive area, somehow simultaneously bold as a lady of the profession and timid as the maiden she still was.

Undoubtedly she herself had been stirred from sleep and curious of what was poking at her backside, as both of James' arms were wrapped snugly around her. When she must have realized what particular appendage she held in hand, boldly Elizabeth ran her palm from tip to base, taking the measure of James' manhood. Only by every ounce of his hard won self-control, as well as probably a miracle, did James hold himself still. He knew should he betray his wakefulness Elizabeth would be mortified and scared off for God knew how much longer.

When he felt certain he could bear her touch no more without reciprocating in some degree she retreated with a gasp as though she'd been burnt, and huddled down to feign sleep once more, though she rather deliberately tucked her taut little bottom closer against him.

James' heart beat to quarters in his chest.

She was trying to _kill_ him.

How _willingly_ he would offer her his throat for the slaughter.

Sharing a cabin at sea was the surest way to get to know someone well, for better or for worse. James rose early out of habit, and one morning while shaving he felt eyes upon him. He turned to find Elizabeth among the disarrayed sheets of their berth, looking deliciously sleep rumpled, that mane of golden hair tousled about her. She was biting her lower lip a little as she regarded him in breeches and no shirt, a towel upon his shoulder. "You're beautiful," she said, before any polite pleasantries of _good morning_ and _how did you sleep_ could pass.

Quite dumbfounded, James stood with half a face lathered in soap and a razor in hand, uncertain how to respond. He was tall and fit, both of which seemed to agree with the fairer sex, but by his reckoning he was far too covered in scars from his long years of naval service to be considered _beautiful_.

Finally he managed, "You are kind, my dear wife, but I know that life at sea has left its mark upon me."

She pursed her lips, eyes roaming his torso for the evidences of his adventures and mishaps. The light in her eyes did not fade, as he feared it might.

"Why don't you come back to bed and tell me about them?"

James felt his mouth go dry with sudden excitement, even as he reminded himself she did not understand how a man might usually take such an invitation when uttered in such a silken purr.

With a trembling hand he finished shaving, somehow managed not to cut his own throat, and slipped back into the warm covers with his bride. His obedience was rewarded with a kiss for every scar upon his torso after he revealed the story of it. Pirate cutlasses, French boarding axes, and Spanish pikes. By the time Elizabeth dozed in his arms once more James was hard as a belaying pin, and twice as much in love with Elizabeth Norrington as he had been when the day began.

She was trying to kill him, no doubt, but what a way to go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Elizabeth had decided that she did not care for fox hunting. She did not like the braying hounds, nor the ridiculous method of riding sidesaddle that was required by propriety for her sex, or the scarlet wool riding habit that was borrowed from one of James' sisters that was just a tad too short in the waist. Even her horse seemed to have it in for her, sensing an inexperienced rider and resolving to have her off before the day was through.

Indeed, the only thing she liked about the afternoon thus far was watching her dashing husband, who seemed as at home astride a horse as he was upon a ship, and the joy he seemed to take in riding such a beast through his ancestral lands.

A light had appeared in his eyes as they had first approached Fieldcrest House, a particular joy she had never seen in James before. And she could see it now in him on this crisp day, that James Norrington was enjoying himself immensely. There was a breathtaking sharpness about him here, on the hunt. It was nothing like his mild mannered persona he adopted on land in Port Royal, and therefore a side of him Elizabeth had not seen much of. Yet he had not earned the name "Scourge of Piracy" for nothing, and Elizabeth wondered if James first whetted his appetite for hunting pirates here in his childhood, chasing all manner of woodland creatures for glory and the table.

"You don't care for this much, do you?"

He surprised her, sidling up alongside as she was caught in her brown study of annoyance.

Immediately she regretted her black mood, schooling her face into a more pleasant expression. Once James might have been fooled, but he was too versed in his wife's mannerisms now. "Oh no, darling," she assured him. "You are enjoying yourself?"

James paid her a knowing smile, somehow touched that she would attempt to accommodate him. She looked ravishing in her red riding habit, a black tricorn crowning golden curls pulled to the side. If he ever left the Navy he thought the role of country lady would suit her well.

"It is good to be home," he answered, which was the truth. "Perhaps it might please you to take a more leisurely survey? I could show you the river where I used to play as a boy. It is quite scenic."

Elizabeth nodded, finding that she liked the prospect of having James all to herself again. The voyage to England had spoiled her. "Are you sure you will not be too sorely missed? I would hate to deprive the rest of the party."

James laughed, for the rest of the party consisted of his elder brother Simon, the next Earl of Fieldcrest, with whom James did not particularly get on, and his minions. "No, I dare say it will be no great loss. Let us go."

James informed one of the followers that he and Elizabeth were going off on their own, and the couple rode off at a considerably more endurable pace. Elizabeth kept stealing glances at her husband who rode beside her, the epitome of a country gentleman. It was almost absurd how handsome he looked in his plainclothes, for she was so very used to seeing him in the blue and white of his Navy uniform. He wore a forest green coat that set off his eyes to perfection, an oyster waistcoat, and fawn colored breeches. His polished knee-high boots shone like mirrors. A tricorn hat perched jauntily upon _his own hair,_ a decision no doubt influenced by her repeated declarations of love for his own sable locks over that _ridiculous_ wig that aged him unforgivably. His hair had been allowed to grow for the duration of their tour, and curled at the ends in a way that made her fingers itch to run through them.

Perhaps it was these subtle changes and more that made Elizabeth feel as though she was seeing James for the first time. Of course she had known him for half her life, but never before had his presence _affected_ her so. Recently all it took was a glance and that gentle smile to make her heart gallop in her chest, much as it once had for Will Turner, only _more_. Almost _uncomfortably_ more.

When he was not near she longed for him, and when he was near she felt strangely _restless_. She wanted...well, she didn't _know_ exactly what she wanted, but she suspected it was something similar to the heat and tenderness she saw in James' eyes at certain times of the day.

She wondered if this exquisite misery was what it felt like to truly fall in love?

In the beginning she had resolved to make the best of her match with James, knowing he was a good man who would care for her and indulge her every whim. Yet this— _this_ she had not expected in the least. It was a pleasant surprise, to be sure, and yet also _frightening_. She had thought to retain control of herself and this situation she found herself in. It was the only reckoning that made the loss of her girlhood freedom bearable. But this _thing_ that grew inside her, that writhed and pulsed with warmth and anxiety and _fire_ —it was _wild_ and she feared if she did not mind it carefully it might eat her alive.

They rode for what felt like a long time, though at a considerably more comfortable pace than with the hunting party. Elizabeth's spirits lifted tenfold, and she did not feel too guilty for stealing James from the hunt, for he seemed content too. At a wide and lazy river they finally stopped, and after dismounting dropped their reins to let the horses graze. They took a seat upon a large rock and shared a snack of some ginger biscuits from Cook that James had squirreled away in his handkerchief. The old woman doted on the prodigal son, and took every chance she could to spoil him with treats, as she had when he was just a boy.

"Did you come here often as a boy?" asked Elizabeth, leaning a bit upon his shoulder.

"Oh yes. Behold the site of my first command," he said wryly, a twinkle in his eye. "My sisters and I would come here to build all manner of precarious watercraft with the notion to sail away."

"Not your brother?" asked Elizabeth, knowing that she pried but curious of the prickly relationship James and Simon seemed to share.

"The next Earl of Fieldcrest play in the mud and rushes like common wretches?" said James, his teasing words bearing quite the edge. "Never. Besides, it was he we wished to escape."

"I am sorry he was terrible to you. Is that why you chose to go away to the Navy?"

James shrugged, a half smile pulling the corner of his mouth. "The second son must make his own way, as you know. I much preferred the sea to the clergy or the army."

"Well." Elizabeth laced her fingers with James', almost tentatively, as though she feared he might refuse her. "I for one am glad, because I cannot imagine how we would have found each other, otherwise."

It was not an empty platitude, but a thing Elizabeth found she meant from the bottom of her heart.

James sensed this genuine affection in her words, and paid her one of these rare, unguarded, almost _boyish_ smiles. "It brings my heart joy to hear you say that, my lady." His heart pounded in his chest for so little a thing, and yet too it was grand to hear her say it aloud. When he kissed her she made the smallest sound of pleasure that threatened to drive him utterly mad. When he pulled her into his lap to deepen the kiss she _giggled_ , and he thought his heart might burst.

XXX

Just when Elizabeth thought she and her horse had reached an understanding, her mount pulled a pretty trick. Something—or nothing—in the path gave him cause to bolt, and Elizabeth could do nothing but hold on for dear life.

She was not proud of it, but she certainly screamed.

"Elizabeth!" cried James, urging his horse after hers.

Branches whipped by, striking her, and when she dared look up her horse's target became apparent. A low lying branch cut across the overgrown road, and her horse surely meant to have her off with it. There was no time to avert disaster, and yet somehow the seconds seemed to draw on for hours as the moment of impact approached. She was vaguely aware of James calling her name again before the rushing green world came to a sudden halt, and stars replaced trees in her vision.

With horror James watched the impact, fearing Elizabeth would break her neck on the long fall to the ground.

But she did not fall.

Doggedly she clung to the offending branch, dangling like a crimson red bell of wool, her little feet sticking out beneath her skirts. James came to a skidding halt beneath her, clasping her about the waist. "I've got you, sweetheart, let go."

For once she obeyed, and tumbled down into his waiting arms. She shook uncontrollably, and James smoothed a hand down her hair and back and arms, inspecting her limbs.

"My God, are you alright?" She continued to shake and he held her, saying "There now, there now."

Only after a little while did he realize the cause of this trembling was _laughter_.

"That bloody beast," she wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. "I knew he would try something like that as soon as I let my guard down. Whoever had the bright idea that women should ride sidesaddle should be shot. It is absurd!"

Her tirade went on in this vein for a good long while, even including some words that raised James' eyebrows. When at last she had vented she rested her head against James' shoulder with a sigh, looking up at him through the lace curtain of her lashes.

And she grinned, for her husband seemed to be perfectly flummoxed. "You are sure you are well?" he insisted, for he had seen midshipmen take lesser blows that made them bawl like a babe.

"I am sure I will be quite sore for a few days, and my ego is surely wounded, but otherwise yes. I am fine."

He knew he had married an uncommonly courageous woman, yet still her mettle amazed him. He kissed her, his long fingers sliding into her loosened hair, and Elizabeth happily returned his ardor with abandon, her hands fisting in the lapels of his smart green coat. Warmth spread through Elizabeth's belly, and suddenly the air lost its chill against the fire of ardor James' kisses fanned within her. Suddenly the saddle upon which they sat seemed entirely too _confined._

It was James who pulled back first, his eyes bright and breathing short.

"Shall we attempt to find that blackguard of a horse?" asked Elizabeth.

"If you are well enough I should like to, for anything just to have it whipped," said James, quite unamused by the animal's antics.

"Oh, none of that now, darling. It cannot help but be what it is." It was a creature that prized its own freedom, and Elizabeth could not help but feel a certain sympathy for it. She reckoned she would not much like being girded and gagged for the purpose of someone else's transport either.

James paid her a considering look, and she was certain he understood her thoughts on the horse, and her own comparison. A sadness entered his green eyes, which immediately Elizabeth sought to chase away with another kiss. "I am simply not the one to tame him," she excused. "Someone will have better luck. Someone who is _meant_ for him."

James opened his mouth as though to say something, a question on the tip of his tongue. But then he seemed to think better of it, and shifted Elizabeth in the saddle so they could ride together more comfortably.

They followed the animal's trace of broken branches and trampled grass deeper into the woods, until the trail ran cold, and no sight of the expensive animal either.

"I think we shall turn back," said James. Elizabeth was not opposed. Though she liked the snug security of riding in James' arms, she had had her fill of the bump and sway of horseback transportation for a day.

They met the road and began the long journey home. Elizabeth let her thoughts roam, imagining the delicious fare that would be served at table that evening, for her stomach rumbled with hunger pangs, and she also would very much like a hot bath. Perhaps even with James...

Biting her lower lip, she cast a glance up at her husband, admiring his strong jaw and the curve of his mouth. As though he sensed her scrutiny, James glanced down, finding his wife regarding him with a rather mischievous look in her eye. It made him warm all over, despite the onset chill of the afternoon, and he dared hope that perhaps tonight would be the night that she surrendered to him.

So distracted by these sultry thoughts, both James and Elizabeth were startled by the appearance of a man standing in the middle of the road. Immediately James did not like the looks of him, and for her recent experience with pirates neither did Elizabeth.

"Hide this in your skirts," whispered James, unobtrusively passing her his spare pistol from inside his coat. She took it without comment, sliding it under a scarlet fold of fabric with a stoic facade. Again James marveled at the courage of his wife; such a seemingly delicate shell that housed the indomitable heart of a lion.

"Ho there, guvnor," said the man in the road, a greedy glint in his porcine eyes. He was squat but muscled as a prize fighter, with a flattened nose and cauliflower ear to match the assessment.

"Good day," responded James, without the slightest measure of warmth. It was the voice he used for commanding ships and addressing pirates, and Elizabeth realized with surprise this was the first time she'd heard it for the duration of their honeymoon. How different he was when at ease, or perhaps just when in her company?

Another tough appeared on the side of the road, taller than his companion, though no more friendly looking.

"Nice day for a ride about the countryside," went on the squat thug.

"Indeed, and we would prefer to be on our way."

James cursed that damned horse again for its antics. He did not know how fast a getaway they could make, his mount having already had a full day of it, with the weight of two upon his back.

"Of course, of course. And we'll be happy to see you along, after a little something for the ensuring of it.

James frowned at the man's insinuation. He knew it would be easier and safer just to hand his purse over to the man and be done with it, but the thought of such insult on his family's own lands rankled to no end.

"It seems I have been gone too long. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Commodore James Norrington, the second son of the Earl of Fieldcrest, and I shall _not_ be taxed for the use of my own roads." As he said all this James presented the pistol he had concealed behind his thigh, pointing it steadily between their new friends eyes.

For some reason this seemed to surprise the brute, and unruly eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "Now now, that ain't necessry," he insisted. "Sides, y've got one shot an there are two of us. Think of yer pretty lady here, hmm?"

Elizabeth took that as her cue to present her own pistol, holding it just as steady as her husband upon the other brigand.

James smiled a little, a sardonic half curl of lips. "Pray allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Elizabeth Norrington late of Port Royal? She is a notoriously good shot in the West Indies, gentlemen, and is well versed in the business of dealing with pirates. May I suggest you step aside and let us pass unmolested?"

Though clearly unhappy to do it, the thugs backed away into the thicket that lined the road, hoping to obscure themselves as targets while complying with the Commodore's wish. James urged their horse on, and the large bay easily broke into a trot, then a canter, hardly noticing Elizabeth's added nine stone.

XXX

James had never been so relieved to see the spires of Fieldcrest House, and as they trotted up his mother, his sister, the footman, and the cook rushed out to greet them. "The hunting party has been back for ages!" exclaimed Mary. "Where have you been?"

"Tangling with road agents," James informed them, barking at the approaching groom in his naval commander 's voice, "I shall require a fresh horse, post haste, if you please."

"Road agents!" exclaimed the ladies.

"Indeed. And Elizabeth can tell you all about it, but I must prepare to go out again. Where is Simon?"

"He has gone to town."

James laughed bitterly, knowing that meant his brother had gone to drink and gamble the rest of the evening away, and would not be back before long after darkness fell. "Of course he has."

His mother the Countess looked down, knowing her first son's behavior left wanting yet unable to publicly reproach him. Instead she settled for, "Dear James, you are on your honeymoon. Why not just let the constable go? He will raise a posse to pursue these men."

James raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of anyone's abilities in this area but his own. He could not be convinced, and set out to enlist the local constable and whoever else would volunteer. This was not the sort of thing to let go unanswered, and though technically it should have been Simon's duty, James took it upon himself.

"James!" called Elizabeth, before the Commodore could mount his new horse, eager for the chase. He had that sharp gleam in his eyes again, and she realized he was looking forward to this hunt as much as the other. He turned to her, and she clasped his hand in hers, kissing his fingers.

"Please be careful?"

"Of course, my lady."

"And come back to me soon?"

His expression softened, some of that fierce fire in his eyes banking, changing to something else. Something that could make him prefer curling up safe and warm with his new bride, rather than pursuing criminals in the dark forests.

"I promise," he assured her, and ducked to steal a kiss that curled her toes.

XXX

Elizabeth regaled her in-laws with an account of their afternoon, and more stories besides of their James' courage in the Caribbean. He was a modest man, and news of his triumphs usually came from elsewhere, the Navy Gazette or the gossip wheel. Elizabeth wondered if an account of her own experience with pirates, being kidnapped and spending a whole day and night alone with the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow on a desert isle, had reached her new in-laws ears. If it had, they were far too well bred to mention it.

The ladies returned the favor, telling Elizabeth of James when he was a boy, serious and sweet and so like his father. The Earl was now bedridden, and it was unlikely he would ever rise again, but in his day Lord David Norrington had been a brave and daring man.

The afternoon wore on to evening, and after dinner Elizabeth and Mary sat up in the parlor waiting for the sound of hooves in the drive.

"James wrote to me of you, you know," said Mary with a conspirator's air. "Years ago. And even then I just knew we would be sisters someday! For who could resist our James?" Mary clasped Elizabeth 's hand in hers with a warm smile, and though outwardly Elizabeth returned it, she felt a bit rotten inside. For in the beginning Elizabeth very nearly had spurned James' love for a blacksmith, and only now was she beginning to realize truly how grave a mistake that could have been. She had once thought James dull, but now she could not imagine life without him.

She squeezed Mary's hand, perhaps harder than was necessary, but her new sister only smiled. "He is a treasure, surely," Elizabeth said, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. "I am a lucky woman indeed."

XXX

The night drew on, and still no sign of James. Lady Norrington retired, and then Mary too, urging Elizabeth to do the same. But she knew that she would only toss and turn in an empty bed, so Elizabeth elected to wait in the parlor. She started at every sound, rushing to the window to look outside, but to no avail.

When at last she drifted while seated in her chair a noise from the foyer started her awake. She rushed to find a familiar tall figure swathed in a cloak. "James!" She exclaimed excitedly, rushing forward.

The figure turned, and at the last minute Elizabeth screeched to a halt.

It was _not_ James, but Simon, finally returned from a night of carousing.

He was similar to his brother in height, and more perfect in his features. He made the very picture of a dark angel with raven hair and flashing blue eyes. Such a comely mask seemed to hide a thoroughly rotten center.

"Wrong brother, my sweet, though if you wish to kiss me hello I dare say I would not object. How _ever_ did my dolt of a sibling land a beauty like you?" Elizabeth could tell by the manner of his speech and the leer with which he delivered his words that Simon was _very_ drunk. But this was not the harmless, playful inebriation she had once witnessed in Jack Sparrow on a deserted island, but a total lack of inhibition with a meaness at its center. There was something cruel in Simon's eyes, and Elizabeth found herself taking a step back in answer.

"I apologize for my mistake, my lord," she said courteously, ignoring his insulting comments. "My _husband_ has gone hunting highwaymen, and I await his return most anxiously."

Simon shook his head and clicked his tongue, as though he found the defense of his family's lands a wasteful endeavor.

"Already tearing off in the name of duty and honor, leaving his new bride all alone. Tsk, what a fool. Though I suppose you had better get used to it, in his line of work. I would keep a set of widow's weeds on hand, dear, you will likely need them sooner than later."

Elizabeth was so appalled by his words she did not even think, her hand simply raised, and struck the next Earl of Fieldcrest across the cheek. Anger filled her in a hot flood. "You should be ashamed, speaking in such a way about your own brother. From what I have seen he is a thousand times the man you are."

Shock, then fury bloomed across Simon's features. "You tart little bitch. Someone clearly needs to give you a lesson in manners when speaking to your betters!"

He lunged for her, but he was drunk, and she too quick. She fled, pushing a stool in his path as he tore after her. Like clockwork he tripped, crashing into a table in the hall. On fleet feet Elizabeth flew up the stairs to her room and locked the door.

She waited for the sound of heavy footsteps and angry pounding on her portal, but the next Earl clearly thought better of making a scene, and retreated elsewhere in the house to lick his wounds.

XXX

When at last the sound of hoof beats in the drive awoke Elizabeth she wasted no time, throwing a dressing gown over her night rail and racing down the stairs. This time there was no mistaking James, looking weary but in one piece, removing his woolen cloak. Relief flooded through her, and she launched herself at him. "James!"

He stumbled a half step, but gladly enveloped her in his arms, burying his nose in her unbound hair. Then a rather unexpected and embarrassing thing happened.

Elizabeth began to cry.

"There now, sweetheart," James soothed, stroking her hair, _quite_ surprised. He'd never seen Elizabeth cry. "All is well."

"How will I ever bear your absence for months on end? I am a wreck awaiting you for just one evening," she sniffled, her hold around his neck tightening.

James sighed, for he had no answer for that. He had thought she would tolerate his absences with a strong resolve, the way she seemed to face everything in the world. This surge of emotion surprised him, and he realized something had changed.

Did he dare hope?

Could it be that _she loved him_?

Perhaps she had not said it aloud, but the way she had looked at him today—the way she had kissed him—different, all different. Sweeter. Softer. Almost _shy_ , and that was not a word he'd ever thought to associate with Elizabeth.

"I suppose we shall deal with that when the time comes," he said gently. "But for now I am home, safe in your arms." There was a glimmer of humor in his emerald eyes, which for some reason only made her want to cry more.

"Did you catch them?"

"Yes, and four more. They had a camp in the woods. We cleared them out." The fact they would be hung was left unsaid in the air. James had found out from the villagers that this particular band of brutes had been terrorizing the county for some time now, and Simon had failed to do anything about it.

Elizabeth sighed, leaning against him. At least that matter was settled.

The Countess and Lady Mary had come from their rooms to greet James, but as they spied the newlyweds kissing sweetly in the foyer they exchanged conspirator's looks, smirking with pleasure, and went back to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

The first rays of morning shone through the window, gilding the curved silhouette of the woman who lay beside him. Through sleepy lids James watched her, his eyes roaming her fair form. She lay on her side with her back to him, and by the gentle rise and fall of her torso he knew she still slept. Her long hair was like a river of gold in the sunlight, almost blinding.

He _had_ to touch her.

With fingers light as a feather he traced the curve of her shoulder and the valley of her waist, the rise of her hip and the length of her thigh. Back his hand travelled, hungry for the feel of her once more, retracing his path with devotion. Every day was like seeing her anew; always he was astounded by how beautiful she was, and what that did to him.

His touch travelled higher still, tracing the curve of her throat, the line of her cheek and the delicate shell of her ear. She shuddered under his touch, smiling a little in her sleep. As he stroked her hair she stirred, and slowly turned onto her back. When she opened her eyes James felt as though he could see his whole world within them.

"Hello there," he said with a gentle smile.

She smiled sleepily, closing her eyes once more as he toyed with her hair, leaning into his touch. "Hello."

James continued to trace her lovely lines, and she purred and writhed beneath his fingers, his gentle persistence driving her mad. Gooseflesh raised upon her skin, a fire kindling deep in her belly. Her every nerve stood at attention, and she thought she finally understood what it was she wanted from James. What she _needed_.

She reached for him, pulling him down into a kiss. "James," she whispered. "I think I am ready."

He paused a moment, before breathing a sigh, his long arms pulling her closer.

"I am relieved," he admitted with his forehead pressed to hers, a hint of humorous self-deprecation in his tone.

"Is this how it has been for you?" she asked, feeling bold as she arched into his large hand that spanned her entire abdomen. "This _fire_ , that feels like it will eat me alive if you don't touch me?"

James nodded, pressing a kiss to her throat. "Something similar, no doubt." His hand moved to her hip, pulling her against him. She could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her, that part of him that she had explored in their cabin as she thought he slept.

"Since we married?" she asked, perhaps naively. It won a chuckle from her husband, a low rumble against the skin of her collarbone that sent a thrill down her spine.

"Longer than that. Many a voyage, battle and storm, the thought of seeing you again was what saw me through."

"Oh James," she sighed, not without sympathy, sliding her fingers through his short brown hair. "Was I cruel?" she whispered, very afraid of the answer. "I did not know. I did not understand..."

"Hush, darling," he soothed her, kissing the base of her throat. "It's alright. There is a time and place for everything, yes? And now…this moment belongs to _us_."

His hand strayed down the length of her thigh, and she could only moan in answer. " _Yes._ "

When he began to pull her shift up, the diaphanous silk sliding against her skin, she placed her hand over his, a hint of the old trepidation showing through. "May I see you first?" she asked, the thought of laying naked before him in the bright sunlight while he was still dressed _extremely_ mortifying.

But James, patient steady James, only nodded with an understanding smile, completely willing to surrender the upper hand. He divested himself of his nightshirt, and with parted lips Elizabeth stared, her embarrassment dissolving into curiosity—and awe. Of their own accord her hands reached out to touch him, tracing his bare chest and abdomen, the curve of his hip, and…

James sighed, his eyes fluttering closed with her hand upon his swollen manhood. He groaned as she explored him, and then Elizabeth discovered a new emotion to associate with what was done by men and women between the sheets: _power_. James saw it too upon her fine features, and smirked a little to himself. Lizzy liked to be in charge—but so did he, and so he pulled her closer, finding her lips with his.

"May I?" he asked, beginning to draw her nightgown up once more, praying the answer would finally be _yes_.

This time, she surrendered.

James stared down at her now naked form with such a mixture of hunger and tenderness. "Had you lived in the same time as Helen of Troy, she would have wept with jealousy," he informed her, kissing her lips and chin. "My God, you are beautiful."

"You flatter me."

"I only make truthful observations, my love."

Elizabeth glanced at the bruise across her ribs, courtesy of her earlier collision. "I fear the tree left its mark upon me."

James frowned as he traced the bruise with gentle fingers. "I still wouldn't mind seeing that rascal of a horse made into _filet chevalin,_ " he admitted darkly.

Elizabeth laughed a little. "Poor horse. No, James, I am fine. I swear, I am better than fine now." Her insatiable hands reached for him, unable to stop tracing the curves of his muscles and the ridges of his scars. She forgot everything that she'd been told about this moment by the prissy old matrons of Port Royal, who took it upon themselves to inform her about the connubial bed as Elizabeth had no mother, _poor thing_. She forgot that she was not supposed to enjoy it, and that it was just a duty, and she should close her eyes and wait for it to be over. Somehow only now did the extent of her good fortune in marriage sink in; James was hers, _all hers,_ and she intended to enjoy him to the fullest.

However, she did close her eyes. She could hardly keep them open, for James' touch upon her body was the purest bliss she'd ever known. When at last his hand dipped between her legs she gave a cry muffled against his shoulder, her hands locked upon him. He knew it was not a sound of pain, and so he chuckled, entranced by her youthful ardor. The way she said his name when he circled his fingers _just so,_ the way she begged… He would be lucky to last ten seconds, when the time came.

The evidence of her arousal, moisture slick upon her thighs, drove James _mad._ "Please," she insisted, tugging upon him, unschooled but _so_ willing. "I'm ready. _Please, James._ "

But he intended to see to her pleasure first, because he knew this first union between them would hurt her, how much he did not really know. "Not yet, sweetheart," he told her, winning a frustrated mewl that caused him to smile. She did not yet quite understand what her body was capable of, he reckoned. The vessel for pleasure that she could become. He kissed his way down her neck and chest, taking a pretty pink nipple into his mouth. It was possible that the sounds she made could be heard all across the house, and he whispered, " _Shhhh_ ," against the flesh of her belly, even though he loved to hear them.

"You are trying to _kill_ me," she pouted, and he found amusement in his own thoughts of earlier echoed back at him.

"No, no. Just…" He did not finish his sentence, for his mouth descended upon her sex, his tongue tracing the pink pearl of her pretty oyster. She forgot herself again, crying out and throwing back her head. It was such an entrancing sight James could not scold her, only devour her, little by little, until she shook with an eruption of pleasure beneath him. She shuddered as he kissed the last little tremors from between her legs, until she squirmed with pleadings of " _Mercy! No more!_ "She said all this with a smile, gilded with sweat, her golden hair curling at her temples. " _Oh darling_."

It was all she could muster, and she reached for him, uncertain and yet absolutely knowing what must come next. "It will hurt," he warned her, his arms wrapping about her shoulders. "Just this first time. I am sorry, I never want to cause you pain. I wish…"

"It's alright, James," she soothed him, rolling her hips against his. She was so intrigued by the feel of him, so strange and new and wonderful. She teased herself with the tip of his cock, sliding up and down in a way that that was almost _unbearable_ it felt so good. Then he shifted lower, hovering at her entrance and she sighed, grazing his shoulder with her teeth as she waited, _wanting_.

" _I love you_ ," she whispered, and those sacred words crashed through him like a tsunami. Those words, _those words_ he had longed to hear for more time than he could honestly remember. He'd made a gamble at the altar with this woman, praying that someday she would return his affections. The sweet victory of this moment filled him with an _indescribable_ elation. He groaned with pleasure and relief, his lips finding hers with renewed ardor.

" _Elizabeth_ ," he whispered, sitting up on elbows so that he could see her eyes. " _My sweet, sweet Elizabeth."_ Though the vows at the altar had bound them, he found that only just now did he finally feel that she was truly and completely _his_.

Somehow that hallowed oath seemed to be the last vestige of permission he required. Slowly he rocked his hips, pressing inside her, trembling with the bliss that was her hot sheath tight around him and the magic of this physical expression of their love.

It hurt.

He had not lied, and yet Elizabeth did not shrink from the pain, welcoming it, knowing it could not last, knowing it made her _his_ in every way. She had a high tolerance for pain, true, but also in that moment she felt simply _invincible._ When sheathed completely within her James paused, mercifully letting her adjust to this new sensation.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the worry in his voice extremely endearing. She smiled, kissing the soft skin behind his ear.

" _Quite_."

They must look ridiculous, she thought to herself with a smile, and yet the thought of watching James as he made love to her inspired a surprising bolt of titillation to spear her aching loins. Curious, she turned to gaze at the mirror of the vanity, and there they were: his long body stretched out atop hers, muscled and lean, and fitted so perfectly between her thighs.

It wasn't ridiculous, she decided.

They were _breathtaking_.

Noticing her distraction, James followed her gaze across the room, and was startled to see their reflection, their bodies tangled in nature's most intimate embrace. It was not proper to look at such a thing, of course, and yet a new heat ambushed him that had nothing to do with embarrassment. He turned back to look down at Elizabeth, finding her biting her lower lip with that glint of mischief in her coffee-colored eyes. _God, how he loved that look._ In so many ways, Elizabeth's courage and zest for life set him _free._

It was she who began to move first, finding that the ache in her newly christened woman's body was nothing compared to the sweetness of holding James inside her, of making him gasp and pant and groan into the bend of her neck like so. She liked to nip at his powerful shoulders, tracing a scar left by a Spanish halberd with the tip of her tongue.

" _Oh Elizabeth,"_ he panted, moving faster, and she strained to meet him, to find their rhythm together. She discovered that when she tilted her hips _just so,_ allowing the perfect angle of contact between them…oh, the sensations were _blinding._ Her hands upon his body seemed the only thing that grounded her to this Earth, and she slid her hands down the curve of his long torso, gripping his hips to guide him. Something deep inside her seemed to already know the steps to this dance, even as her higher-self watched this pleasure unfold with curious mystification.

James observed her carefully, slowing to her pace and matching the roll of her hips, tuned with her rhythm and her grasping hands as though they were upon the dancefloor. The feel of her coming with his cock buried inside her, tight walls of her sex clenching him like a fist, proved his undoing. As she arched beneath him with a cry James spilled himself deep inside her, his body shuddering with the most intense pleasure he'd ever known.

If the house had not yet roused, it was certainly awake now.

They lay in a tangle of limbs, unable to move except to exchange languid kisses and lazy smiles. Elizabeth flinched a little as James withdrew, the ache sharper now that she was not distracted with carnal abandon. "Are you alright?" he asked for the second time that morning, rolling to his back and pulling her into his arms.

"More than alright," she assured him with a sleepy smile, fitting her head into that dip in his shoulder that seemed it was molded _just for her._ "I love you, James."

James pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and she marveled how so small a physical gesture could contain _all_ his love. "And I love you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth decided it was a phrase she would not tire of hearing for the rest of her days. She had thought her days of excitement long over when she married James Norrington, but now she could see that their adventures were only just beginning.

* * *

 **A/n: ::fans self:: Well, I enjoyed that. Did you? haha. Love to hear your feedback, dear readers! I promise I don't bite hard! ;)**


End file.
